The One I Must Protect
by Nilmiel
Summary: A promise is the beginning of a connection, and connections forge relationships. -Royai 100-
1. Miltary Personel

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_Ok, here you are: A collection of drabbles/short one shots of everyone's favorite pairing of all time, royai. This fic was written in honor of Royai Day, June 11. A big thanks goes to Demon Slaying Hanyou for sending me the list of themes, so thanks!_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Fullmetal Alchemist or any of the characters herein. They belong to the bespectacled cow, Hiromu Arakawa. Be thankful, because if I owned Fullmetal Alchemist, there would be no plot, and only royai._

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Military Personnel

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Of all the people in his office, there was one who held his attention longer than the rest. He would regularly cast his eyes around the room, looking at the subordinates who had followed him without question, examining their behavior.

Jean Havoc was regularly resting his head in his hands, an unlit cigarette clamped between his teeth. He never allowed smoking in the office, it was too small and cramped for him to allow anything of the sort. It was bad enough he regularly smoldered unneeded papers; he didn't need the stench of smoke and carcinogens floating around in the room. Havoc tended to procrastinate quite often, although he didn't feel the pain of punishment so often as the colonel, as he was only a Second Lieutenant and therefore had much less to do and less to catch up on. He admired Havoc, his wisecrack attitude was sometimes annoying, but it did help lessen the long days of tension in the office.

Heymans Breda was often in a similar position as Havoc, save the cigarette. No matter how alike the two were in attitude, Breda refused to be compared to Havoc in that respect. Most days he was doing his work, but sometimes out of the corner of his eye, he could see the stubborn Second Lieutenant scribbling down bets of the latest military pool. Although such events were strictly forbidden, he never turned the red-haired man in, partially because the bets lightened the spirit of the office, and also because he himself was sometimes involved.

It was Falman who he knew the least. The man had worked for Hughes before coming to work for himself, but he proved a good and sturdy aide. The older man was very down to earth, and sometimes it proved helpful, but other times it made him want to incinerate the grey-haired officer. He was probably one of the more diligent workers of his subordinates, often finishing work far before deadlines with literal accuracy. It was his reports that he hated reading the most, mostly because the monotonous sound of it, and it often made him consider taking a well-deserved nap. He did admire the man, though; he was useful and above all, extremely loyal and dedicated.

The youngest member of his group always sat the farthest away. Kain Fury, the communications specialist. He was a little wary of taking the young man into his group at first, partially because of his lack of experience, but Fury had proved invaluable. The black haired bespectacled young man's knowledge of technology astounded him, and saved him a lot of trouble from dealing with such nonsense.

It was always her his eyes rested on her the longest. More than often she was the first one done with paperwork since she was the most diligent of them all. Most of the time his eyes would flicker to look at her, she had her head rested on one hand while another held open a book that her gaze rested on. There was always a grin on her face when she read, and sometimes he found himself wishing she would look at him that way. She was the most loyal of all of his subordinates, and the one he admired the most. She had been with him the longest and go through any lengths to protect him, and something inside himself told him he would do the same for her. Often, when he looked at her he wold let his eyes trail over her thin frame, trying to see her form beneath the folds of her uniform. He wold eye her hands, callused from holding the gun she fired to protect him, and wondered what it would feel like to hold her hand in his own, or the feel of running a hand over her face, or the feel of her soft lips against his own.

Every time he let such thoughts get the better of him, however, he would be reminded of where he was by the click of a pistol. She never pointed it at him, just reached into her holster. It was enough. He would sigh, and continue with the monotonous paperwork, every once in a while flickering a soft gaze in her direction.


	2. Gunshot

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Gunshot

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Normally such a sound would terrify people. The promise of death, of some foreign object tearing it's way through your body, the destruction of your self. The blood that would flow, the screams that would be heard, the fear in the air so thick it could be felt. The horror of death, the absolute terror of unbeing, the dread of knowing that eyes would not open again. Those always accompanied the sound of a gun being fired. He had always feared that sound, fearing even more what it was heralding. Imminent pain if not death for those around him. It was petrifying.

But now, the sound was reassuring, for more than one reason. It reminded him of where he was and pushed him closer to his goal. It reminded him of the fragility of humanity, and kept him pushing for survival. It echoed in his ears, attaching him to this world and that moment. It reminded him that she was behind him. That she would protect him.


	3. Battlefield

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Battlefield

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Hesitation meant death. That much was certain. Freeze and you would die. It was the law of war.

Of course she realized this, but hesitation always threatened to take her over. She would be tempted to freeze, fingers still clutching the trigger of her rifle. She didn't want to take a life. She didn't want to watch the victim of her gun fall in a graceful arc as life left their body and they breathed their last. But in the end, she always did.

He hated it. He couldn't stand rubbing the material between his fingers to create the spark. Hesitations had nearly claimed him many times. Hearing their screams chilled him, seeing their charred bodies after all was said and done made him retch.

She'd been assigned to serve under him. She worried her hesitation would kill him, and he feared his reluctance would end up destroying her. She would stand behind, him in front.

Every time he was attacked, she would fire, and every time something would come after her, his fingers would click. It was an unspoken promise between them. No hesitation would claim them on the battlefield, not so long as the other breathed.


	4. Grave

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Grave

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She still stood behind him when he went to the cemetery. An unspoken promise of support. The first time he had been the last to leave, and so she stayed. A simple presence was what he needed, not someone who sympathized with him and told him they knew how they felt, just someone he could lean on if he needed too. And so she stayed.

It had been a year since Maes' death. He had visited frequently at first, and then as matters wove themselves into thick mats of deceit, the visits had grown distant, but she knew the pain was just as raw. Today was the first in a while he had come here.

He stood in the same spot as always, back turned and staring at the grey outline of the gravestone. It was strange, how a simple slab of stone could change so much in an instant. It was only stone after all, only a building block in the grand scheme of things. But it was before this rock the only place she had ever seen him cry.

It was painful to see him broken. He'd said it was raining. That more than accurately summed up his position on the matter. Even he, a master of alchemy and reconstruction of the universe, could not master death. He was, after all , useless in the rain.

His back was turned to her once more. She wanted to comfort him, reach out and hold him, but she knew it wasn't what he needed. So she stood there, eyes silently watching and trying to share the pain. His voice came softly, a rustle in the winds. "Lieutenant…"

He head snapped up in attention. "Sir?" She asked, concern hidden in her voice. He spoke, never turning to face her. "Why am I powerless here?" His voice was broken and raw. She opened her mouth to speak, searching for the right words. "You aren't powerless, sir."

He laughed, a throaty chuckle. "You don't understand. I can't do _anything_ for him…" She blinked. "Taisa…"

"I was coming up with so many theories on that day…" he said quietly. "I told you didn't I? Alchemists are horrible creatures." He ran a hair absentmindedly through his hair. "It's not those boys' fault, I realize. Its just the emotion mixed with the power that alchemists have…"

She didn't say anything, what could she say? She bowed her head silently. "And now I lost Havoc too. It wasn't just Maes that I couldn't protect. I…" He shook his head. He turned around, and she could see the anguish reflected in his eyes. She didn't move, only raised her head to meet his. He was only a few feet in front of her, but the distance seemed eternal. "Lieutenant," He said quickly, but stopped himself. He cast a hesitant glance over her, and then stepped forward and pulled her into a warm embrace. She was stunned by his gesture, so she just stood there as he held onto her protectively. "I won't fail you," He said quickly and quietly. "I won't let… I couldn't live with myself if…" His voice was cracking. He stopped, not speaking. She didn't see anything, just stared blankly over his shoulder as he hugged her close to him. "Do… do you mind if I borrow your shoulder?" He asked softly in her ear.

Her eyes softened. "I don't mind."


	5. Heiki & Heiki

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Heiki & Heiki, _Weapon and Calm_

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It disturbed her, how easy it was to kill. To flick a switch, hear a noise, and watch the body fall. It scared him, the calmness that came with it, the concentration that was needed required tranquility. There was no satisfaction, no praise, only stoic regret. That, after all, was all they were allowed to feel. They were weapons after all.


	6. Death

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Death

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She saw him fall, a his body curving in an exquisite arc before hitting the ground. Blood leaked from his broken body, eyes fading into the distance. His clothes torn, death overtaking him in his race and throwing him into the dust of oblivion. His black hair was matted with sweat and dust, hand reaching out in a final effort to protect something, _someone._ She ran to him, ignoring the pleas of those around her, reaching out and holding his gloved hands, pleading, _begging_ him to hold on to life. _I promised I would protect you._

He saw her jerk as the bullet collided with her frame. Saw her eyes widen in shock as she began to comprehend the situation, a soft gasp escaping her lips, blood beginning to trickle from the corner of her mouth. He caught her in his arms as she stumbled and fell, he called out her name desperately. Her blood seeped through the uniform into his, her warmth staining his being. He felt her go limp, and he clutched her desperately, screaming her name, over and over until his voice went hoarse. _I failed someone else._

And then they would wake, each in their respective beds, in their respective apartments, drenched in cold sweat and breath coming heavily. Each with eyes widened in terror, each fearing sleeping again, fearing reliving the moment of watching the other die. But each would close their eyes again, each dreading tomorrow, when uncertainties become reality.


	7. Crime and Punishment

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Crime and Punishment

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He was procrastinating again. The pile of paperwork that had been dumped on his neat desk that morning still sat there. He had been glaring at the files, willing them to be singed and disappear for about an hour before deciding that that would never work. Abandoning his attempts there, he began to doodle on a corner of a piece of paper a transmutation circle that would burn his name on each document. A line there, a scribble here, he continued to adjust his work until at last he believed he had found the perfect circle. At last, a quick way to accomplish his paperwork with out procrastinating, as easy as snapping his fingers. Literally.

Roy stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back behind him. The other members of the office turned to look at him because of the sudden movement. Roy let his gaze sweep the room to make sure Hawkeye was still out getting her coffee. Good. He raised his fingers to snap and test the new transmutation circle just as the door opened.

Needless to say, it was an absolute disaster. The papers exploded off of his desk all over the room, some singed in the corners, others raining balls of fire. The four officers at their desks ducked for cover, and Riza shut the door quickly. When the hurricane subsided, Riza reopened the door and glared at the bewildered colonel, who stood with pieces of charred paper clinging to his uniform.

She sighed and reached into her holster, pulled out her handgun. Roy cringed as a bullet singed past his left ear. Glancing nervously at the dent in the wall, he turned to face the fury of his only female subordinate. "Sir, I suggest you get this cleaned up and then get replacement papers from the files department," She said, sitting down at her own desk, brushing charred papers from the corner and setting her coffee down.

Roy immediately escaped the room, his mind still trying to comprehend how he was the superior and yet was still punished by his lieutenant.


	8. Store Lined Streets

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Store Lined Streets

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It wasn't often he got to see her with her hair down. In fact, if he hadn't noticed the handgun hidden in the bag she carried at her side, he would never have guessed it was her at all. It was an improvement, most defiantly. The hairclip she always wore to work restricted her, sort of inhibited her from flowing like she did now.

She didn't seem to notice him. It was their day off, why would she be looking around for him. At the moment she was paused in front of a jewelry store, which came as another surprise to him. When he'd first seen her, she'd been in a bookstore, which made sense since she brought novels to work everyday when she finished her paperwork far above the deadline and everyone else. He could guess multiple places she would stop while browsing these store lined streets, but he wouldn't have guessed she would have stopped to look in the window of a jeweler at the earrings on display. He knew she wore earrings, but for some reason, he could never see her shopping for jewelry like most other women he knew. It was a nice change to see her more feminine than he was used to. The long skirt she was wearing was a nice change as well, even if he would have preferred it shorter.

He sighed and stood up from the table at the café he had been sitting at across the street, dropped his tip on the table and headed across to stand behind her as she looked through the glass. He was about to say something, compliment her, ask her which of the earrings she preferred but she spoke first, cutting him off in mid breath. "I was wondering how long you would watch me before coming to say hello, sir." She said, gaze not leaving the window. He smiled. "Can't slip anything past you, can I, lieutenant?"

She turned around, letting her gaze meet his. "If you could, I wouldn't be a very good aide." She grinned. "And no paperwork would ever be done." He chuckled softy, thankful for the day off. He held his arm out in front of him. "Well, since I've run into you, would you care to accompany me for a while?"

She looked at him for a minute and then let a soft smile grace her features. "I wouldn't mind at all."


	9. Unknown Past

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Unknown Past

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He wanted to know. She seldom spoke of her childhood. He knew her mother had dies long ago, he knew her father had been one of the greatest alchemists ever to live, but he wanted to know her, he life, and the influences upon her being. He wanted to find her secrets, reveal what was going on inside of her, he wanted to know her. He wanted to learn about her mother, he wanted to listen to her stories.

He couldn't figure out why she intrigued him so. He didn't know why all these trivial thoughts plagued the back of his mind. Maybe the reason was simpler than he realized.


	10. Promise

_A/N- This was originally a oneshot entitled 'Complications' I added it to my collection of drabbles because I thought it fit the mood. (Thank you, Cles, for reminding me)_

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Promise

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Riza Hawkeye leaned back in the bed, contently sighing as the pillow framed her face and allowed her to comfortably relax. She always had looked forward to sleeping when she returned home from whatever hectic happenings had been going on in the office. Now things were harder, and she anticipated more and more when the scratching pens would stop and she could get up from her desk and return to her small apartment and feed the puppy. Everything had become so much more complicated. There was so much work to be done, ever since Scar had disappeared, their group had received much more paper work than they were used too as they had been witnesses. Havoc especially had been working hard, and often he would be out on the field rather than in the office, thereby giving more paperwork to the rest of the group. She endured it all quietly, letting some stress build up inside of her and anxiously awaiting the end of the day. She had always preferred to deal with her own problems on her own, and most all of the people she worked with respected that.

The bed rocked slightly as Black Hayate leapt onto the bed beside her. She shifted and rubbed a hand over his ears, to tired to scold him for jumping up onto her bed without permission. The black pup sat down and wagged his tail across the bed contentedly, effectively bunching up the covers. She smiled at her dog, and he licked her nose. She blinked as he did so and stretched out a hand to pull the puppy closer against her as she began to sleep.

Her mind didn't seem to be in the mood for it though. She kept mulling over the fact there was still so much to do, not to mention the fact that they still hadn't heard back from the Elric brothers. It wasn't unusual, Ed especially preferred to avoid the office, and Riza couldn't say she blamed him. The colonel did tend to be a bit out of hand when it came to the elder of the Elric siblings. For what she assumed was mostly for these reasons, Edward would usually share his findings with Maes Hughes, who would in turn tell what he deemed important to the colonel, as well as shoving a few pictures in his face or ranting over the phone about the newest development in his family life, whether it be Elycia's new dress or her new favorite word.

Hayate must have sensed his master's uneasiness, because he began to wiggle in her warm grip and pressed his cold nose under her chin, causing her to open her eyes once more. She began to rub his neck under his collar and his tail began to wag again. She closed her eyes and pulled the blankets closer around her.

Sleep must have had something againsther, she decided, because at the very moment she felt her self losing consciousness the phone rang. She closed her eyes shut as tight a humanly possible and willed the annoying sound to disappear. The ringing seemed tot drag on forever, and eventually Black Hayate began to whine at the annoying sound. Grumbling in exasperation, she threw her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, picking up the annoying device and holding it to her ear.

"Hello?" She said groggily, leaning against the wall. Who ever was on the other had better have a damn good reason to give her a phone call this late at night. There was silence on the other line, and Riza massaged her forehead in annoyance. "Hello?" She repeated, louder this time.

"Hawkeye?" It took her sleep-deprived mind a moment to recognize the voice. She heard it everyday, but for some reason there was something different in his tone, it sounded like something had been broken. "T-taisa?" She yawned into the phone. "Is something wrong?" There was no response. She waited a minute before speaking again. "Taisa?" She spoke a little longer, sleepiness wearing slowly off. There was a sound of a deep breath on the other end before Roy spoke. 'I'm sorry to call you this late, but I need you to come to the office." That's right, She remembered. He had been staying late tonight, not a rare occurrence since the group had been so bogged down with work. "Did something happen, sir?" She asked. There was a small sound, almost as if he was preparing to speak, but then nothing. "I'll explain everything when you get there."

"Sir, can this possibly wait until tomorrow?" She said, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. She really wanted to go to sleep right now. "I-" He began. She could hear his heavy breathing as he composed himself. "Please. I need-" He broke off. "I need someone here right now."

She sighed and rubbed a hand through her hair. "Ok. I'm on my way."

"Hawkeye?"

"Hmm?"

"… Be careful, ok?"

She didn't know what to make of his remark. "Sir, I'm just driving down to the office-"

"Just, be careful, ok?" He repeated. She sighed. "Alright, sir."

"Good. I'll see you when you get here."

She hung up the phone and turned back to her room. Looking at the puppy asleep on her bed, she sighed longingly before reaching for her brush. She combed her hair, threw on her uniform and pinned her hair up like always. Glancing once more at her bed, she picked up her keys and walked out the door of her apartment, being careful to turn and lock it.

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She walked into the building at about 12:15 AM, although by now she was completely awake. Her keys clinked softly in her pocket as she strode down the white corridors to the office she shared with her colonel and the other subordinates. She had often stayed late into the night helping the colonel finish his paperwork, and truth be told, she enjoyed it more than the bustling working hours of the day. Everything was bathed in a peaceful silence, and she found it easier to concentrate.

Her mind wandered back to wondering what the colonel had called her here for. It wasn't the first time he had called her back to the office, most of the time it was to ask for help with the paperwork, but something about this time was different. His voice had sounded almost desperate over the phone, and so she knew there was something possibly wrong.

She stepped into the office and her eyes swept the room before landing on his desk. He was the only one in the room; all of the rest of the subordinates seemed to have left earlier. She felt her pace quicken when she saw him. He had his elbows on the desk, his head buried in his hands. His hair was messier than usual, and the piles of paperwork had been hastily shoved into the far reaches of the desk. The only thing there that remained untouched was an old photograph.

She took a few cautious steps towards him. "Sir?" She began softly, thinking that maybe he had fallen asleep. "Are you alright?" She asked tentatively.

"Hughes is dead."

The words made her take a few steps back and she almost ran into a desk behind her. "What?" She breathed, not daring to believe she had heard what Roy had just said. He raised his head to look at her. His face was pale ad his eyes seemed to have shrunk. He appeared almost… dead. "He called me…" Roy said softly. "They found him in a phone booth up in Central. Gun shot wound, they said. Someone killed him." Her eyes had widened as she spoke, breath coming faster. "Oh, god…" She said, putting a hand over her mouth. "When…?"

"Only an hour ago." Roy continued. His expression never changed. "He was alive an hour ago…" His voice was breaking. "Sir, please-" He slammed his fist on the table. "Damn it!" He cried out. His voice rang with desperation and fear. "Damn it, Hawkeye, why can't I…" He choked on his words. "Why the hell did he die? He can't be dead…" He dropped his head back into his hands.

Riza dropped her eyes to the floor. "You can't blame yourself. There's nothing-"

"Exactly." He said, voice muffled by his hands. "There was nothing I could have done. I should have been able to… damn it! I should have been able to do something!" He reached out his hand and wrapped it around the photo on his desk. "This was taken just two weeks ago." He muttered, looking it over with sunken eyes. "We were at the bar, he, Havoc and I were at the bar… god damn it." A sadistic smile crept onto his features. "He was shoving pictures at me, that's why I look so pissed off." He held the picture more firmly in his hand. "Why the hell did he leave?" He asked desperately, eyes not moving. "What the hell made him think I would just… let him go? He swore he would see me to the top, Hawkeye. Damn it…" He dropped his head into his other hand. "Why can't I…" he began, and then trailed off. "Why is there nothing I could have done? It wasn't even raining."

"Taisa…" She began, not knowing what to say. She was standing still in front of his desk, eyes locked onto his figure. His breathing was shallow, one hand supporting his forehead, the other gripped around the photo so hard his knuckles were beginning to turn white. She hated to see him like this. She had memories of only ever seen him so torn in Ishbal, and she decided then that she would never let him be broken again. Reaching out slowly, she eased his hand off of the photograph and clasped it in her own. Something in her small action tore all the rest of his barriers down completely, pain welling up inside of him. His body shook and he held her had tighter, holding desperately onto her as tears fell silently across his face.

She knelt down next to his desk, still holding his hand warmly between her own. "Please," She said quietly. "You can't blame yourself for not being able to do anything." He tightened his grip on her hand. "I can't." He said softly. "I can't help but imagine that it would have been different if I had been there. If I had come to the phone sooner…" She shook her head. "No. Don't dwell on the 'what if's and the 'I should have's. If we could change those we all would have done so long ago." He shook his head. "If it had been me, he would have done something, he would have tried-"

"Do you think he blames you, sir?"

He stopped, shaken by the utter truth in the simplicity of those words. "Do you think that he blames you for his death? If you died, would you blame him? Would you blame anyone?" He shook his head, not raising it to meet her face. "Don't take the world on your shoulders." She said. "That's why you have these people around you. They want to help you carry this, taisa. They don't want you to have to carry all the problems of the world on your own." He shook his head. "I can't ask for that…"

"You don't _have_ to ask." Riza took a deep breath, putting one hand under his chin and forcing him to look at her. His eyes were red and his face was pale, and it hurt her more than anything to see him look like this. "When Hughes became your friend, did he expect anything? He only _gave_ everything, sir. He took what he could from you and carried it. He pushed you harder than anyone; he gave his all to help you. Do you think that you can just reject that? For god's sake, sir, do you think he wanted you to reject it? Don't be so selfish as to blame yourself for all your problems."

"Lieutenant…" He mumbled, unsure of how to respond to her. "Do you think I want to see you like this?" She pleaded. "Do you think that when I promised to protect you that I wasn't going to take anything either? Do you think I did it for my own benefit? Sir, if you blame yourself, I have to blame myself." He turned his head away, unable to meet her gaze. She looked at him tenderly, pulling gently on the hand she held. "Come on, sir. I'll take you home."

Roy stood up from the desk and turned to face her. She smiled weakly, and turned to walk out the door, but his hand caught her wrist, and he pulled her back to him. She turned, a small look of surprise written across her face. He pulled her in against him, holding her in a warm embrace. "Thank you, lieutenant."

She smiled against the warmth of his uniform and wrapped her hands around him as well.

"You're welcome."

_-Owari-_


	11. Liar

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Liar

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It wasn't the truth. It couldn't be. There was no way the bitch standing in front of her was telling the truth. A feeling of utter disgust crawled up her spine as the words dropped like poison from those venomous lips, a fragment of glass embedding itself into her center. Riza breathed in a long ragged breath as the words registered in her mind. They weren't true, they couldn't be. She wouldn't believe that they were real.

She hadn't said it straight out. She hadn't walked into the room declaring unfailingly that he was dead. That would have been easier to reject. It would have been easier to brush away like an errant wasp, a sting, but something easy to differ. It would have been so much easier if she had said that, she could have denied it with more certainty, with more force, if the words had been simple. '_You look like a very loyal officer. I'll let you follow your superior in no time._' The words danced in her head like a heathen ritual, a tormenting chant of cruelty and deceit. She wouldn't let them control her, she had to fight it. If she had only said that he was dead she could have instantly said no. But the words tossed into her mind as she tried to make sense, the meaning carving itself into her, leading her to believe it was the truth.

She couldn't have failed. She had promised him she would see him to the top, promised she would cover his back. She would give her life for him; there was no way he would just die. Not when she would do it for him. It wasn't plausible, there was no way he would just walk out. He had ambitions, dreams, people he needed to support, he wouldn't walk away without doing that. He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye.

It wasn't possible not to be able to see him again. There was no way the world would be right with itself if he decided to leave. There was no way the earth could go on spinning on its axis if he wasn't in the office procrastinating on his paper work. No way anyone could breath without him constantly annoying her with his delaying tactics. No way she could go on if there wasn't someone for her to protect.

She couldn't have failed. She couldn't have let him die. She'd never left a task unaccomplished, this was a lie. Those words, that venom could be nothing but malicious deception.

_I'll let you follow your superior in no time._

No. This can't be… no one could have…

The words played in her mind, chanting over and over like some pagan cry. They melded into her soul; meshed with her innermost being, tearing the foundations she had built her self upon.

_Liar. You're lying._


	12. Proof

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Proof

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He had of course, wanted to deny it. This feeling inside his gut, this attachment. It couldn't be a reality, he couldn't accept it. He wished he could believe that it was true, wished he could tell that feeling inside of him that it was allowed, that this was ok. However, something like this could not be accepted, could not be allowed to run rampant through his being. There was too much at risk.

It would endanger both of them if he acknowledged this feeling. It would set their mission at stake and give an open target to any enemy that tried. He couldn't be weaker than he already was. So he denied it. He wouldn't accept this infatuation had harbored itself deep in the pit of his soul, nothing could make him truly come to terms with it and finally believe it was true.

Or so he thought.

Bradley had taken him from her. He had taken her and set her right beneath him. There was no room to breath, no room to move. The very fact that Bradley saw it was proof enough that it really did exist.


	13. Betrayal

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Betrayal

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"Damn it, Hawkeye!" He yelled. "Didn't you promise me? God damn it…" He muttered. He rubbed her hand between his coarse gloves, willing warmth to go back into them. "Didn't you promise to protect me? Didn't you tell me you'd come to the top with me?" He was almost yelling now, his voice was frantic. He wiped the small amount of blood from his forehead that trickled down from his hair onto his face, sweat mingling with it. The rain was drenching them, diluting the seemingly never-ending stream of blood that was all around him. He couldn't tell which was his, and which was hers. He squeezed her hand desperately with one hand, supporting her broken body against him with his other arm. Her head lay limp against his chest, her normally bright brown eyes faded and nearly colorless.

The rain cried for him, the never ending torrent of water soaking his body, covering him with reminders that it was his fault, he was the useless one, he was the one who had allowed her to be hurt like this. "Lieutenant…" he whispered harshly, voice breaking. "You can't betray me now... you can't give up on me yet." Her breathing was shallow against him, the rise and fall of her chest barely noticeable. "Hawkeye…" He whispered again, tasting the blood in his own throat, his whole body burning with pain. His ribs were broken, but he still cradled her against him. "Damn it Hawkeye, you have to listen to me!" She coughed, and he felt more of her warm blood sink through his already soaking uniform.

She didn't say anything; her whole body shook with the effort of squeezing his hand back, a simple gesture of reassurance. He began to rock back and forth, trying to keep himself from going unconscious and drifting off into sleep. He hissed at the pain that it brought, but at the same time was thankful. Pain meant life; pain tied him to the word. "Lieutenant… stay with me, ok?" he begged. "You promised, if you… if something happens now, you'll be betraying me. You can't do that…" She shook her head softly, no words coming from her chapped lips. He dropped her hand and brushed some of the blood-matted hair from her face, wiping the blood from her cheeks. "Don't you dare leave me…" he mumbled.

Damn it, what the hell was taking the reinforcements so long to get here? It seemed they'd been sitting in the rain for hours, his pain steadily growing worse, and consciousness slowly slipping from him. He couldn't manage the pain she was in. She was in far worse condition than he was, life dripping from her body far faster than it left him. She slowly reached her hand out and captured his hand once more, clinging to him. He smiled sadistically, and cradled her closer. "I'm not leaving…" He reassured her. "Don't you dare leave me, ok?" He said. The rain dripped into his eyes, and he felt his lashes grow heavier with each drop that plastered itself upon him. He leaned forward and rested his head on hers. "Don't you dare betray me…" he whispered again. He was so tired. "That's insubordination… you wouldn't do that, right?" He tasted blood, and tried to force it down. He closed his eyes and relaxed his head against hers. He was dimly aware of people yelling in the distance, a siren wailing, and heavy footfalls.

There were people around him now, but he couldn't see. There were hands on his shoulders, people trying to pry him from her, lay him back on something pleasantly soft and warm. He felt her still close beside him, his hand still locked onto hers. It may have been his mind, but as he slipped into unconsciousness, he swore he heard something. _I won't betray you._ He felt her grip on his hand tighten and he grinned as much as his pain would allow. He relaxed against whatever pillow they had him on, and slept, his breathing evening out to match the slow tempo of the rain.


	14. Covered Eyes

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Covered Eyes

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Riza's hand closed over the warm mug of tea that sat on the corner of her desk. The warmth bled into her skin as she raised it to her lips and let the lemony liquid slip between her teeth and trail down her throat, filling her and giving her calm as she set it at the table in the lounge and reached to pick up her book. She wasn't often one to take breaks, but she had completed her paperwork for the day, so she had come to have a cup of tea before returning to look after the rest of the subordinates and the colonel.

She heard light footsteps behind her and the smell of cigarette smoke overwhelmed her as two hands suddenly came up and covered her eyes. She sighed and set down her book. "Lieutenant Havoc, please remove your hands unless you have some desire to have them removed by force."

Havoc chuckled but didn't remove his hands. "It's ok, 1st Lieutenant," He said, keeping on hand over her eyes and using the other to force her to stand up. "There's something you have to see."

"Then isn't it rather redundant to have my eyes covered?" She asked, exasperated. He shook his head, but then remembered she couldn't see. Taking her by the elbow, he led her out of the room, hands still covering her eyes. "You can't see it till we get there." He said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She sighed in frustration, but allowed him to continue to lead her.

They entered a room after a few minutes of walking, and Riza could hear the voices of Fury, Breda and Farman, all talking excitedly, it seemed they were pulling together some last minute bet. "Oh, Lieutenant, you brought her?" Fury's voice squeaked out. Havoc removed the hand from her arm but kept the other one firmly over her eyes. "Yeah," He said. "Can she look now?"

"Wait, wait!" Exclaimed Breda, and there was the sound of some people rushing around, and then silence. "What is it, exactly, that you're trying to show?" She asked, growing more impatient. "Ok, ok, ready?" Havoc asked. He threw his hands off of her in a flourish. "Surprise!"

She looked around the small office that she normally shared with the boys, not much was different. It was slightly cleaner, but otherwise nothing was out of the ordinary. "What is it?" She asked, a bit disgruntled at having been taken away from her book for this. Fury was still smiling. "We're all finished with our paperwork! Every last bit!"

She raised an eyebrow. "All of you?" This was unusual. Fury and Farman almost always had paperwork ready before the deadline, but Breda and Havoc finished normally at the last minute, thereby keeping the group at the office late. The colonel was a different matter all together all together. Fury nodded excitedly. "Yes! And Colonel Mustang finished as well."

"Really?" She asked, mildly surprised. "May I ask why you have done this?"

Havoc raised an eyebrow at her, cigarette hanging limply from his mouth. "It's been one year since you became First Lieutenant, and people are talking about you getting a promotion soon. We wanted to say congratulations somehow. We figured if we all finished, you could go home sooner today."

Breda elbowed him. "Don't act like you thought it up," he said. Havoc's vein throbbed.

"Yes," Farman continued. "It was actually the colonel's idea."

"He wouldn't have remembered if I hadn't said anything." Havoc grumbled. "I was the one who remembered. Besides, he didn't even stay after he finished. Disappeared. I'm the one who went and got her, anyways."

"Whatever." Breda sighed.

Riza smiled at them, genuinely thankful for their simple act of kindness. "Thank you," She said. "I appreciate it."

---------------------------------------------------------

She sat in the park as the sun was setting, Black Hayate laying at the foot of the wooden bench while she held the novel she had been forced to leave behind in her hands. Her hair was down, her mind relaxed, and she was adorned in civilians clothing rather than her military uniform.

People walked by, their footsteps fading into the distance, every once in a while one of the passing strangers would nod in greeting. She sighed in contentment, completely relaxed.

She heard footsteps in back of her, and for the second time that day a hand reached around and gently covered her eyes, the other hand bringing something down in front of her and bringing her own hand up and wrapping her fingers around it. She grasped the stem of the flower and raised the other hand to wrap around the one that was covering her eyes, pulling it away from her face. A single red rose was held in her hand.

Still holding onto the hand that had covered her eyes, she turned her head to look behind her at the man who had given it to her. He smiled gently at her, and she returned it, hand still intertwined with his. "Thank you, sir."


	15. The Scent of Blood

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The Scent of Blood

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Roy had never really thought of something like blood having a unique smell. Of course, now that he lived through the Ishbal Massacre, he knew otherwise. A pungent stench of iron and rot, something that embedded itself in his nostrils like nothing else. Even when off the field he could smell it, even _taste_ it.

She knew the stink all to well. There was always the flourish when the bullet from her rifle embedded itself into the flesh of the target. She couldn't really say it was her enemy.

Their hate of the disgusting odor was silent, but it was mutual. And both would go to hell and back to keep the other from having to endure it's repulsiveness.


	16. Unreachable With A Voice

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Unreachable With a Voice

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"Elizabeth? Hey!" His voice was hoarse as he spoke into the phone. "Hey-" He began, but his voice was caught in his throat. _Oh god, no._ She'd been speaking to him only a second before, the mission going according to plan, but then her voice had stopped. He couldn't reach her. Her voice was gone on the other end, and his wouldn't get through. _It can't be, not again._ An image flashed in his mind of a man lying bloodied in a phone booth, the phone itself hanging limply on its cord. _Oh god, no. Not again, please, not again._


	17. Scars

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Scars

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She remembered every scar she had from the war. She looked at herself in the mirror, and traced a finger over the thin line on her stomach. The water from the shower in the background echoed softly in the bathroom. Her eyes lingered on the scar on her left shoulder blade, the one that partially obscured the array that had been inscribed into her flesh. At first she had hated these scars that covered her, cursed them for the pain they had brought, the painful memories they incited. Somehow, now, she was thankful for them. A constant reminder of her loyalty, a reminder that she would die for him. And for an unknown reason, such a thought was comforting.


	18. Things I Don't Want To Realize

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Things I Don't Want to Realize

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Riza's hand moved the cloth silently down the shaft of the rifle, her chocolate colored eyes hard and focused. Roy sat beside her, fingering his gloves carefully. The harsh desert sunset caressed their pale shadows with delicate tendril, the dying sun illuminating their ghostly shadows.

"I don't want to have to do this anymore." Roy's voice broke the silence and glanced at the woman sitting next to him. "I don't want to wake up each morning and realize that I have to go out and kill these people." His voice was flat as he spoke, sincerity the only emotion in his voice. "This is the path you chose, isn't it?" She replied in the same tone. "Remember why you don't want to realize these things, remember what you are working towards."

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and then returned to the fabric he held between his fingers. War never allowed much time for conversation.


	19. Things One Cannot Understand

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Things One Cannot Understand

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She was serving directly under the Fuhrer. The words hit him like wall of bricks, nearly sending him staggering back in his seat. Roy's hands clenched each other in an iron grip. The others were gone, too, sent to random parts of the country. He was powerless enough as it is, but _he_ had taken her from him as well. The realization that his effort to prevent something like this from happening had put her deeper into enemy territory sent his mind reeling. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Bradley had said he'd been allowed to live so that he could understand the situation. All that was going on in his head now thrust him further into confusion.

"…That is how it is. I'm sorry, Colonel Mustang."


	20. Murderer

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Murderer

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"Dog! Killer! Bastard!" The words plastered against his face as he walked down the streets. A parade for the end of the war, a celebration for the lives he had ended. The gloves he wore felt heavy and they scratched against his bare skin.

_Murderer._

He almost tripped, stoic façade shattered. _Murderer_. The words began to eat him on the inside, a caustic acid running on the inside of his veins. _You killed them You slaughtered them without care. You destroyed the lives they might have lived. Murderer. _He walked slowly along the path, the corrosive words etching themselves into his mind. _You enjoyed it. You would kill again, if you had the chance. You're nothing but a-_

A light touch on his shoulder pushed the thoughts from his mind. His eyes flickered to see Riza beside him, her expression unchanging, simply waking beside him.


	21. Repentence

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Repentance

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If saying sorry could fix everything, he would have apologized a million times over. He would have told Maes he was sorry for not answering the phone soon enough. He would have told Havoc sorry for not being able to heal his injuries properly. He would have told Edward he was sorry for all the hardships the brothers had gone through involving him. He would have told Riza he was sorry for all the pain he had caused her, all the scars she had taken for him. He would have apologized for each time a pained expression graced her face, for each time she might have worried. But after all, apologies never made anything better.


	22. God

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God

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The drive of the Ishbalans almost made him question his religious perspectives. Roy had never been religious himself, but somehow seeing these people fight with such an ambition, such an enormous need made him wonder about whether or not some beliefs had foundations. He wondered if religion could push people in other ways, and he found himself being the most religious he had ever been in his life while he was in the war.

He asked Riza about it once, an attempt to escape the pain of thinking of the mass genocide that was going on right outside the camp. She didn't really answer, simply smiled and said she was glad that he was capable of thinking of something that required active brain cells. He decided maybe he should think about God more often.


	23. Someone I Want To Protect

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Someone I Want To Protect

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She had never quite figured out why she had been drawn to him. When he had started as her father's pupil, he had been an imposing figure in her life. She wasn't often home, so she never really saw him, but when she did return from school, she was wary of him. He was only a few years older than her, but somehow, he was a completely different world then she. She silently revered him, though.

At the time of her father's death, he had taken care of everything. He'd done everything within his power for her, made an effort to see that she could take care of herself. He'd stayed with her for a while after his death, and she'd learned more about him, and he'd become more than just her father's student. He was human, she realized, with goals and aspirations. And so she had trusted him, and given over her father's secrets.

She was sent to Ishbal the same time he was, although she never realized he was there until she had saved him from being stabbed in the back by one of the Ishbalan insurgents. She later served under him, and she protected him.

She couldn't say exactly why it was that she trusted him. She didn't know what it was about him that was different from the other men she had met. She didn't really understand why she was willing to throw away her life for his sake. The only thing she knew was that these things were truths. So, when Winry had asked her why she had joined the military, she had only answered: "There is someone I want to protect."


	24. Not There

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Not There

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Havoc decided to be early to the office that day. He didn't know why, but for some reason, he felt he should drag himself there earlier, maybe just for the change. Maybe just so he could see exactly what went on before he got there. Who knew? There could be elves that lived under his desk and stole those pens he was always missing and they only came out before he got there. Whatever the reason, he headed to the office early.

The building was missing quite a few of the normal inhabitants when he got there, and it was a lot quieter than normal. He could hear his footsteps echo in the hallway; it was slightly unnerving. When he opened the door, he noticed there was already one occupant. "Good morning, Lieutenant Havoc." She intoned in the same voice he always heard from her. "Mornin' Lieutenant Hawkeye." He grumbled, yawning.

"You're here early." A statement, not a question.

"Could say the same for yourself." He replied.

"True, but it is something out of the ordinary for you."

"You cut me deep, Lieutenant," He said with mock sorrow, a hand placed over his heart. Was that a smile?

She stood up from her chair, taking a mug that sat on the corner of the desk. "Well, for whatever fascinating reason you're here so early, you can tell me when I get back; I need to go for my tea." She walked briskly past him and out into the hallway. Havoc smiled as she walked past him. Almost anyone else would think her cold, but in reality, he'd come to see her as a truly caring person. She had many sides to her, and so long as it wasn't the one that kept a pistol pointed at him, he enjoyed being around her. His relationship with her, though not romantic in anyway, was one of the few successful ones he had with the female population of Central.

Snapping out of his reverie, he walked past her desk to his own, but on the way knocked the pile of papers that had been neatly stacked onto the floor. "Shit," He muttered to himself. Sighing in exasperation, he bent down and began to try to fix them back into a pile. Satisfied, he set them back down on the corner of her desk.

"Not there, you idiot!" Havoc turned at the new voice in the room. "Chief?" He asked in mild shock. "Don't you get here after I do?" Roy looked at his second lieutenant with a look somewhere between confusion and surprise. "You are here early, aren't you? Oh well, never mind. You can't put those there."

"Why?"

"Because," Roy said striding over to the desk and moving the pile over three inches to the left. "That's where she puts the stuff to give to _me_."

Jean raised an eyebrow. "But that's where it was…"

"No, no, Havoc, it was here." He pushed it farther, to the complete opposite side of the desk. Jean shook his head. "That's where she puts the stuff to give to _me_."

"Yes, but you never have as much as I do."

"That's cause you're the colonel, and I'm just the second lieutenant."

"Well, if you ever want to become colonel, you should work on more paperwork."

Havoc pushed the pile back to the other side of the desk. "No, boss, if you ever want to make it to Fuhrer, you should do it."

Roy pushed. "No, not there. It was there."

Push. "Not there, _there._"

Push. "No, there."

Push. "There."

The two men stopped at the sound of footsteps approaching the doorway. Jean quickly ran to his desk, and Roy did the same, but not before pushing the pile back to Jean's side of Riza's desk. Havoc glowered at his superior as the door opened. Riza stepped in, carrying a mug of steaming tea. "Oh, sir," She noted. "You decided to come early today." She said with a hint of surprise, but also approval in her voice. Roy grinned. "I'm capable of not being lazy."

"But it seems you are capable of trying to force Lieutenant Havoc to do your paperwork." She said as she sat down at her desk, deftly sliding the pile of paperwork back to the other side of the desk. Roy cursed under his breath. Havoc grinned. "Nice try, though, sir." She said.


	25. So I'm Crying

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So I'm Crying

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She had almost never seen him cry, and the few times she saw it was in this same spot, nowhere else. Standing before a gravestone, the place they buried his best friend. She never cried herself though, no matter how torn she became, no matter how much her heart cried out to be torn in two. She would not let her mask break, she would not give in to the wild longing of grief. She would not let the tears slide down her cheeks, because, in the grand scheme of things, he didn't need them. His own tears were enough.


	26. Cureless

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Cureless

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There was no remedy for war, no magic method to make the pain disappear. No miracle potion or medicine to dispel pain and suffering, nor anything that could stop the rampant decay that took hold of the land.

Unfortunately, short tem consolations tended to worsen the pain later on, when eyes were opened and hearts broken apart. Comfort taken in others was shattered when others died, sadness replaced by fear, and fear replaced again by wild longing. Nothing could ease the pain without bringing more.

There was only survival; only the hope that one could live to see the next day, live to take another ragged breath of dust-choked air. There was only hope that they could live to kill again, only silent belief that they themselves might survive. So he still snapped his fingers, and she still pulled the trigger, if only to live another day, if only to make sure the other could breathe again, even if the pain would come again. Even if it's effects were stronger than before.


	27. Dependency

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Dependency

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When the word dependency was spoken, most eyes in the room would turn immediately towards Havoc, who would glare at them, shaking the unlit cigarette between his teeth at them. They would laugh, and Havoc would grin, and then the group would get back to work.

When the word was spoken, Roy's gaze would flicker to Riza for a fraction of a second, while the rest of the group joked about Havoc's addictive habits. His gaze would linger on her just enough to catch a glimpse of the tip of the array that was etched onto her back. In that fraction of a second, he felt completely exposed; his soul lay bare before all of his enemies.


	28. Pain and Wounds

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Pain and Wounds

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Ed shoved his hands into his pockets thoughtfully as he trudged through the hallway of Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye's apartment building. After hearing everything, he had been thrust deeper into the mysteries of everything that was going on, and his mind was interpreting all possible conclusions and possibilities that had been opened, and was also closing the doors on the things he understood. He was so immersed in his thoughts he paid no attention to where he was going, and as a result, walked right into someone, as cliché as it seems.

"Sorry, I didn't see you…" A voice said. Ed froze. "WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL YOU CAN'T SEE HIM WHEN YOU WALK THROUGH A HALLWAY?" He stopped and panted from his outburst, standing on tiptoe and attempting to eye the man who had run into him face to face. The man blinked in shock. "Hagane no?" Ed stepped back. "Taisa? What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I was returning something to the Lieutenant."

"Ah. Well."

"Yeah."

"So… um..."

"I gotta… get going."

"Yeah."

"Hey wait, you have any money?"

"What? I just gave you some this afternoon!"

"Yeah well… we need more."

Roy shoved his hands into his pockets and handed Ed a bill. "There, that's it. Use your own money next time." Ed did a quick salute. "Thanks, taisa. Well… You just... do whatever... I'm leaving now."

"Ok then."

"Yeah."

---------------------------------------------

There was a sharp knock at the door for the second time that evening. Riza sat up from where she had been sitting with Hayate, pushing her hair behind her ears as she walked to the door. Her expression revealed a hint of shock as the door swung open. "Taisa?" She asked. "Is… what is it?"

"Um… chuui…" He began slowly. "Can I come in for just a minute?"

"Sure…" She said a bit hesitantly. She stepped away from the doorway to allow him to enter. He walked through somewhat uncertainly, slightly uncomfortable at being welcomed into her home. She walked briskly past him and pointed to the seat that Edward had sat in a few minutes before. "Please sit down, taisa." She said bending over the table and clearing away the tea that had been left from when she and Edward had talked.

"No, I'll only be a minute, it's ok." He said, making a hasty motion with his hands. He took a deep breath and collected himself, moving a hand behind his head, rubbing his neck somewhat nervously. "Chuui," He began again, softly.

She walked past him, clearing away the rest of the mess from the living room to her small kitchen. "Hmm?" She replied, her tone unreadable. Roy sighed and shifted his gaze to the corner of the room. "I just… I wanted to come by and apologize. I mean…" He faltered slightly. "It's just, I've put you through so much. You've served under me and been nothing but faithful, but all I've been able to give you in return was pain and wounds. An image of her broken on the ground behind Alphonse shot through his mind. She was still moving around the room, moving assorted items into their positions, but he could tell that her focus remained on him. "And now…" He started again, his eyes following her. "Even though I tried as hard as I could, you're in the worst possible position because of my actions. I didn't' come to ask for your forgiveness; in all truth I don't deserve it. I just wanted you to know-" He reached out and grabbed her wrist as she walked past him. She stopped and turned to face him, her face showing a small hint of surprise.

"-That I really am-" He bent forward and kissed her cheek gently. Her whole body froze; he could feel her become tense. "Sorry." He finished. He dropped her wrist and turned to walk away. Just as his fingers closed around the doorknob, she spoke softly. "There's absolutely nothing I regret, taisa. I would rather have suffered all that I have under you than have been assigned to someone else in the first place." She paused, taking a breath. "Thank you."

He turned and smiled sadly at her before opening the door and stepping into the hall, closing it softly behind him.


	29. Existance

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Existence

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Roy Mustang awoke suddenly, drenched in cold sweat, swimming in fear from an ever-present nightmare. His heartbeat was irregularly fast, and he moved one hand over his chest and tried to even out his shallow breath. His mouth felt dry and his throat hurt as if he had been screaming. His whole self was tense with the terror the dream had incurred. He laid his head back into the pillow and attempted to relax, but images of crimson death and decay crept into his mind again and again.

He turned his head to one side to look at the woman who lay asleep beside him. Her face was at peace, stands of gold laced over her shoulders. Rolling onto his side completely, he gathered the sleeping woman into his arms so that her warm body was pressed close against him. He buried his face in her hair, attempting to drown out the memory of the nightmare with her soothing scent. He felt her take in a long breath, and her body shuddered slightly as consciousness seeped into her. "What are you doing?" She asked groggily. He grunted. "You're my wife; am I not allowed to hold you at night?"

She twisted in his arms so that she lay facing him. Her red-brown eyes flickered over his tired face and a hand came to rest over his heart, feeling the quickness with which it beat. "What's wrong?" She asked softly.

He kissed her forehead gently. "Nothing." He assured her, resting his chin on her head and pulling her closer against him. " I just wanted to make sure you were real."


	30. Conversation

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Conversation

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"Taisa?"

"…"

"Taisa."

"…"

"Taisa!"

"…? Ah… Chuui."

"You really shouldn't fall asleep at your desk, taisa."

"Sorry."

"…Well, did you finish the report that's due in twenty minutes? I was going to take it down to accounting and records now, if it's possible."

"Yeah, sure…"

"And, here are the new forms that need to be filled out on the regulations of the new fire department."

"Gotcha."

"And these need to be filled out regarding Scar's disappearance."

"Hmm."

"And those forms I gave you yesterday are needed by General Gallick by three PM tomorrow."

"Ah."

"Do you remember anything I told you, sir?"

"Huh?"

"Really, taisa…"

"Ne, chuui?"

"What is it?"

"Where's everyone else?"

"On their break, sir."

"Why do they get a break?"

"Because they finished their paperwork."

"Oh. Why don't you get a break?"

"I already finished my break."

"Ah. Ever efficient, are we?"

"As much as possible, sir."

"Good. I like that."

"It's only because it's impossible to get you to do it yourself."

"Now, chuui, I could report that as insubordination."

"I doubt that sir."

"Hahahah… more than likely you're right. I haven't read the damned manual on what I can and can't do in a few years."

"Perhaps you should."

"Maybe I will."

"So, is that everything I need, chuui?"

"Yes, sir."

"Ah… Good. A lighter pile then."

"If that's all sir, then I'll be going."

"Ok. Let me know if anything pops up."

"I will, sir."

"… Hawkeye-chuui…?"

"Hmm?"

"… Nevermind."


	31. Home Cooking

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Home Cooking

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"Do you cook much at home, lieutenant?"

Hawkeye lifted her eyes from the paperwork. "What?"

"I asked if you cook much."

"And why, Lieutenant Havoc, would you ask that?" Havoc shrugged, the cigarette bobbing up and down in his teeth. "I don't know. I was thinking, and one thing led to another, and then for some reason I thought of cooking, then I thought of one of my girlfriends a while back who cooked, and I thought of other women's cooking, and I thought of you, and I asked if you cooked much at all."

Hawkeye lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps your stream of consciousness should be kept on your work, Lieutenant."

"You're avoiding the question, Hawkeye."

There was a snort across the room. "She doesn't cook."

Hawkeye turned an indignant glare at her superior. "And how would you know that, sir?"

Mustang lifted his eyes from a report he had supposedly been scanning. "You always buy from the cafeteria, and every time I've stopped by at your apartment to drop off work that I finished, you've been eating take out."

"That, sir, would be because every day you do not finish things and have to bring them to me, I am busier than normal filing out reports that you did not. And other times, I enjoy having take-out. I don't have time to bring lunches or cook very often, between you and the puppy. I will, however, have you know I can and do cook. I've entertained plenty of people in my time."

Havoc grinned. "Entertaining gentleman callers?" He said loud enough to irk his superiors. Hawkeye returned her glare to him. "Is there a specific reason you two are so insistent on knowing about my personal life?"

"Curiosity is all." Havoc shrugged.

Hawkeye stood up, straightened her papers, and placed them on Mustang's desk. "I'll be leaving for today. Those go to accounting, sir, and the ones highlighted in yellow go to the PR office. And if you are _curious_, I will be going home and making myself a home cooked meal. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, she walked calmly out of the office. As soon as her footsteps had faded, Havoc rounded on Roy. "What you have to do that for?"

"Me? You're the one who asked."

"Yeah, but you're the one who said she couldn't cook."

"Ah—no. You're the one who was curious."

Breda, who had remained silently ginning until now, broke in. "Maybe one of you should go apologize, and see what she's cooking."

"I'll go." The two said simultaneously. Roy glared, and Havoc backed down. "Fine." He said, raising his hands in mock defeat. He walked over and took his seat next to Breda. "Five hundred cens says she invites him in."

"Six hundred says she doesn't even answer the door."

-----------------------------

Riza turned around as a soft rapping was heard on her apartment door. Hayate ran over and began barking. Riza gabbed her plate of half-finished lasagna and strode over to the door.

"What is it, sir?"

Roy rubbed the back of his head. "Um, I just wanted to apologize for Havoc and myself."

"Thank you. You're forgiven. Next time you want to know something about me, ask when you're not supposed to be working."

"Yeah, sure."

"Thank you, sir."

"… by the way, lieutenant, did you cook dinner tonight?"

He was answered by a plate of lasagna in the face.

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When Roy Mustang walked back into the office, stray noodles hanging from his hair, Breda and Havoc each passed a thousand cens bill to a grinning Feury.

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A/N- Le gasp, an update? I've been such a slacker with these. Hopefully they'll be coming our more often.


	32. Shirt

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Shirt

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I see the way you always have that turtleneck pulled up over your collar bone. Everyday I notice it, and I'm not sure what to think of it. I know the secrets that are beneath that fabric, and I know the cotton on your back caresses something that should not have had to be there.

I can't help wondering if he put it there because of me. Maybe I hadn't come along, you wouldn't have to have those scars tracing your thin frame beneath that stretched fabric. And, yeah, I do feel responsible. I kind of feel like I coerced you into showing me what had been etched into your skin, and because of that, it had to be burned off.

I hate that shirt now. Don't ask. We both know you know me too well to question my unusual taste. It's just to easy to project any feelings of doubt onto the thing that covers my mistakes. I guess I'm just trying to apologize. So here. I'm sorry.

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End file.
